The Perfect Crime Pt 04 The Plot

The Perfect Crime, Part 4- the Here it comes

Thanks for all the encouragement on Part 3. I hope it was enjoyable. There is sex in this part, but it's towards the end. Have a nut.

The BEAR

I laid there on my marriage bed, and tossed and turned. I began to realize what I had done. I had my revenge, but I had no closure. At about 2:00 a.m., I finally dozed off, only to be awakened at 3:00 by an incessant ringing of the doorbell, and pounding on the door. I stirred myself, and pulled on my deck shoes, and went downstairs. "Just a minute," I said, and opened the door to find two uniformed police officers, and a man I assumed to be a detective, standing there.

They entered, and the uniforms were looking around.

"Do you mind if we search the place?"

"No, not at all. What's wrong? Is it my wife?? Where is Sonia?" I got a panic stricken look on my face. Thank God for drama club in college (I hoped).

"Jones, check the garage; Smith, the rest of the house. With your permission, of course.''

"Sure, sure. What's going on, Detective?" Jones went out through the kitchen to the garage; Smith walked upstairs, and I could hear him walking around. The Detective pulled out a plastic evidence bag, and showed me Sonia's driver's license.

"Is this your wife?"

"Yes, that's Sonia."

"Is this your wife?" pulling up a picture of her body on his cell phone.

"OH, MY GOD!!" I shrieked. I collapsed on the sofa. "What happened?"

"Your wife was murdered, sir. Do you know where she was last night?"

"She said she was going out with some girlfriends. But she's not home...".

I sagged to the sofa, and put my head in my hands. Officer Jones came back from the garage, and whispered something to the Detective. Officer Smith came back downstairs, and said "Nothing up there, Sarge."

"Do you have a weapon, Mr. Tremaine?"

"Yes, I have an M1911a Colt automatic."

"May we see it?"

"Yes, it's right here in the gun safe."

I walked to the bookshelves, and put in the combination of the gun safe. Officer Jones covered his weapon, and Officer Smith put his hand on my shoulder, and said "I'll get it." He had on latex gloves, and reached into the safe, and pulled out the wooden box which held the .45, and opened it. He took the gun, and sniffed the barrel.

"Hasn't been fired recently."

"Didn't think so" said the Detective. He turned to me and said "Where were you between 11:00 p.m. last night, and 2: a.m. this morning?"

"Right here, asleep."

"Mr. Tremaine, I'm gonna level with you. You're not really a suspect, but you were her husband. You're more a person of interest. I've got to clear all the spaces; dot the I's, cross the T's."

"I need to tell you, detective, it'll come out eventually. I was in the process of divorcing her. She was going to be served Monday morning." "Well, that's kind of academic now. But thanks for coming clean anyway. Ginger thinks very highly of you."

He fixed me with his cop stare. I was ready. "There isn't anything you want to tell me, is there?"

"No, detective, I didn't love her anymore. She killed that, but I didn't kill her. We were through. I didn't know about tonight. I guess like someone once said, I really am clueless." He held my gaze, and as I mashed the toes of my left foot with my right, the tears slowly came.

"O.K., we'll be in touch. We'll need you to come down sometime later today, and ID the body. You gonna be alright by yourself? Anyone you can call?"

"No, no one. Can you tell me any more about what happened?"

He looked at me, and said "I don't know how much you would want to hear. She was taking part in an orgy; it appeared it was recorded, and on a website. Also, DVDs were available. There were 10 other victims killed, including 2 city councilmen, 1 State Representative, the bar owner, 2 bouncers, and 4 unknown individuals. It's still early in the investigation. Give us a few days, and we'll update you. We'll get the .45 back to you as soon as possible. Again, Mr. Tremaine, I'm sorry for your loss. I'm truly sorry, regardless of the circumstances." The police left, and I locked up, and went upstairs to bed.

As they walked down the front walk to the squad cars, Jones and Smith updated the detective. "Upstairs was clean. The bed was messed, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary."

"The garage was neat. The hood on his Bronco was up, the battery, and starter solenoid had been removed, the fan belts were removed, and new ones on the work bench. The truck, the Jag, and even the motorcycle were cold. It looked like the oil had been drained at least a day ago, and the oil filter was removed. I don't think he took any of the vehicles anywhere."

"I think we're missing something, but I don't know what. My gut tells me that he didn't do it, but that may be acid indigestion." They smiled, and said they agreed.

I went upstairs, and laid down, wired. I replayed the conversation, and went over the interplay between the three policemen, and myself. I thought I had handled it about as well as could be expected. Of course, I was not aware of who else had died, and some of the admissions were quite interesting. I will have to see about getting a copy of the police report as soon as it was available. The news about the website, and the owner of the bar was very interesting. I would have to wait until after the divorce summons, and the alienation of affection suit were served, to see about any subsequent lawsuits.

I finally could not stay in bed any longer. I got up and went downstairs and made coffee. My body was starting to come to grips with everything. I started to shake when I realized what I had done, and that I had possibly gotten away with it. Contrary to what had happened, I do have a conscience, and it was starting to weigh on my mind.

I sagged into a bar chair at the kitchen island, and started to sob, asking myself what had become of my soul, my life. I was a blubbering mess, and I didn't know what to do. At least it would be well covered by my circumstances at work Monday.

I sat and dissembled till my coffee went cold. I straightened up and took a deep breath. I went back upstairs, and took a deep breath, then took a scalding hot shower, followed by an ice cold shock. I climbed out and toweled off. I dressed in jeans, and a t-shirt. I put on sneakers, and went downstairs, made another cup of coffee, and went into the garage.

I tried to sort out what I knew, and what had happened. Sonia was gone; the money was moved, but that was not important. It would only affect fuck nuts when he realized he was broke. I would have to touch base with Barbara, and make sure we were still a go. I installed the new starter solenoid, then the fan belts, put the drain plug back in the oil pan. I filled the oil, 7 quarts worth, and installed a charged oil filter. Then I reinstalled the battery, and got in and lit it off.

The Bronco started right up; I got out, and checked for leaks. It looked good. I shut the hood, and got back in. As the engine came up to operating temps, I looked at the mechanical gauges, and watched them all come up to normal ranges. I felt much better having accomplished something. I shut it down, and went into the kitchen, made a couple of sandwiches, grabbed 2 beers, and went in to watch television. I turned on the tube, and found local news.

It was about 10:00 a.m., and watched the local anchors cover the biggest story we had had in years.

'11 dead in bar shootout.' 'Sex ring broken up at North east city bar. 11 dead. Possible drug and porn connection.' I had to figure out when to drop the ledger on the authorities.

I cleaned up the living room, put my dishes in the dishwasher, and went out to the garage. I got in the Bronco, opened the garage door and backed out to 2 news trucks on the street. They were just setting up. 'Christ (There I go again.) It didn't take long for the news to get out.'

I backed into the street as people scurried to approach the truck. I sedately pulled away as reporters were screaming at me for comments. I drove to police headquarters, parked, and went in a side door, avoiding a plethora of individuals with microphones and cameras outside the main entrance. I asked for the morgue, and followed the directions downstairs to a dark, cold set of rooms.

I found an officer, who told me to wait while he contacted the front desk. 5 minutes later, a detective approached.

"Mr. Tremaine?" he asked. I nodded, and he identified himself as Detective Walsh.

"Sergeant De Marco said you would probably be coming in. I'm sorry for the circumstances" as he clipped a visitor's badge on my t-shirt. "My condolences, sir" and held out his hand. I shook it, and felt a twinge in my gut. Didn't think it was for Sonia, but it would suffice, if anyone noticed. "This way, sir" he said.

He led me down a corridor to a room with large picture windows in the hallway, and opened the door. The coroner (I suppose) looked up from a table which held a male body.

"Doc, can we see Mrs. Tremaine?"

"Sure" said the gentleman and turned towards the wall of stainless steel icebox doors. He opened one about halfway down the row, and pulled out the rolling slab.

"We have already performed an autopsy, sir, but you will only have to view the deceased's face."

"Ready?" I nodded, and he pulled down the sheet.

It was her, complete with two extra holes in her forehead.

"She was shot twice?" I asked.

"Yes, sir, and we already have ballistics reports back on 6 of the bodies. They were all shot with the same weapon. It was a 9mm automatic, probably a Glock; 147 grain hollow points. We also found some other things interesting. She had a tubal ligation approximately 15-16 years ago. Blood work shows she also had large amounts of Ecstasy in her blood, ingested within the last 6 hours. She had an early case of gonorrhea, and clamidyia. You can get a copy of everything upstairs in homicide. Here are all her personal effects. Please sign here."

I signed, and said "Thank you, doctor."

"Sorry for your loss, sir," he said. I thanked him and turned to Det. Walsh, and followed him out the doors, took the elevator to the 4th floor, to Homicide. He led me to a desk, and motioned to a seat.

"O.K., what do you want to know?" he asked.

"What other particulars do you have?" I asked.

"I can't give you too many details about the other victims, but I can tell you uh..., she had sex with multiple partners, before being killed."

"Any idea who?" I asked. "In addition to being her husband, I am also an attorney representing her estate. Lawsuits will probably be forthcoming."

He looked at me long and hard, and then, with a trace of sadness, said "We can't identify, or isolate very many individuals, but the forensics will give you what you may be looking for."

"What can you tell me about the other victims?" I asked.

"It's all in the report- ID's, names, addresses, dispositions of the bodies when discovered; it should answer any questions. The one gentleman, a Mr. Solange, was the owner of the bar."

"Anyone else of importance?" ...

"Ahem... 2 city councilmen, a judge, an assistant district attorney, 2 prominent businessmen. Plenty of cannon fodder, counselor. ...Sorry."

"It's o.k., a lot like doughnut jokes, Det. Can I get a copy of the paperwork- ALL of it, please."

"Sure."

He gave a couple of keystrokes, and hit enter. A printer started to run, and we waited.

"Do you know of anyone who would want your wife dead?" he asked.

"No, Det. I wasn't particularly fond of my wife- I'm sure the detective told you I was going to divorce her, starting Monday.

"But I didn't want her dead. I'm being honest."

"I can appreciate that, sir," He said. "Where did you say she was going last night?"

"She would go out regularly on Friday nights with the girls, and I never suspected anything."

"Yeah, from what we found, she was pretty much a regular on Friday nights, with quite a clientele, and quite a following."

"Following?"

"Yeah, it appears the bar owner had at least 2 websites featuring her, and her exploits, and offering her DVDs for sale."

Stunned, I asked if that info was in the report.

"I don't think so, but then the full report isn't done yet. Oh, by the way, here's your .45 back."

He reached in his desk drawer, and retrieved my weapon. "Just sign this form, and it's all yours." I signed, and put my pistol in my belt.

"Thanks, Detective. Can you call me when all the reports are done?"

"I'll make a note for Terry to contact you. Again, my condolences."

"Thanks."

I left thru the side door again, got in my truck, and drove to Texas Road House for a late lunch. I got a burger, fries, and a beer. I ate lunch, and left for home. I didn't know if the police would like to look at her stuff at the house, so I spent the better part of Saturday going through her things, and her home office.

I left the money where it was, and put the file book on her book shelf. I took the 3 ledgers, and put them in my book case. I started going through her files and locked desk drawers. I had her keys, and under her desk blotter were three combinations, for locks. I opened everything I could find, but could not come up with any combination locks on anything. I was stunned by the info I came across.

Mortgages, bank books, C/D's in various banks, records of safety deposit boxes in various banks both in town, across the country, and in England. There were financial statements, and spread sheets. Soon after we were married, she convinced me to file separate income tax returns. I got to claim the house, free and clear, while she had 'numerous business deductions' for two separate companies, Sonia Inc., and Sonia Enterprises LLC., 'Events of a Personal Nature.' That's where her porn money, and DVD sales were cached.

I was totally stunned. Was I really that clueless that she pulled all this off without me getting wind of it? I guess so. I think I'll have a brain scan done, just to make sure I have one. I sat back in her chair, and my mind started to race. I picked up her desk phone, and dialed Barbara Blaine's number. She answered on the second ring.

"This is your attorney; can you talk?"

"Yes," she answered. "He just left for the office, in a big hurry. What happened?"

"Someone beat me to the punch," I said. I wasn't going to tell her everything. "My wife is dead; do you still want to go through with everything?"

"Absolutely- Monday morning, right?"

"Yes. Lots of things are going to happen."

"O.K., I'll have the locks changed when he leaves for work. You have a restraining order for me, don't you?"

"Yes. It will be effective Monday at about 10:00 a. m."

"Great," she said.

"Barbara, if anything happens or you don't hear from him, call me right away, o.k.?"

"Sure - I can do that. Talk to you later."

I looked at all the documents, went and got some file boxes, and filled one with tax returns, one with real estate records, one with bank and investment statements, and added the file book. I took all the boxes and put them in the Bronco. Then I went and changed clothes, and out to get some dinner.

The next morning, I was out at 7:30 and made 8:00 mass. I fully expected lightning bolts and the church falling in on me when I entered. But God must have been in a good mood, because nothing happened. I stayed in my usual seat at the back, and bowed my head. I prayed for all I was worth, and soon was sobbing. I didn't go to communion (Why tempt fate) but I stayed after it was over. I sat there thinking: 'Maybe I should give myself up, turn myself in. I didn't think the cops had any leads, and would probably never solve this one. But I didn't want to go to prison; I just wanted my life back.'

A soft nudging in my subconscious told me I needed to atone, and make amends. And that it would probably take a long, long time. 'God, please help me.' I finally got up and left. On my way out, Fr. Jerome stopped me.

"You look troubled. Need to talk?"

"Not today, or right now, Father. But can I get a rain check?"

"No problem. But don't let it fester too long. You won't like yourself."

"Copy that, Padre."

I figured I needed some routine, so I took my sorry ass to that epicurean center of culinary delight- Waffle House. I pulled into the parking lot, and strolled into the restaurant with more bravado than I felt.

"Well, well, well" said Ginger. "Long time no see. How you doing?"

"I've been better, but I haven't been too much worse."

"Breakfast is on the way. You have probably been subsisting on that fast food crap. Let's get you back in shape."

Everybody seemed to give me a wide berth; I guess my story preceded me.

"Yeah, you have a reputation, bordering between sorrow, and pity."

"What about you, Ginger?"

"Jimmy, you have been used and shit on. I know the real you, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are honest, trusting, and loyal. That is the only thing wrong with you." I stared into her eyes, and felt revulsion.

"You don't know everything."

"And I don't want, or need to" she said steadily, as she grabbed my hands, and looked me right in the eye. It was deathly quiet in the restaurant. "But that's between you and your God. The man I know needs help, and that's what I'm here for. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Ginger. I don't know what to do."

"Just take your time, and when you're ready, we'll figure it out. Until then, here's another person who likes you somewhat." With that, her husband Terry walked up, and sat down.

"Counselor. How are you making out?"

"I'm doing o.k., Sergeant. How is the case coming?"

"Slow; I got transferred to days to run this investigation. I understand Detective Walsh took care of you yesterday."

"Yeah, he was a big help. No leads?"

"Nothing I can share; the murder weapon has been linked through ballistics to two jewelry store heists, and a liquor store robbery. No deaths, but a couple of gunshot wounds. I really can't tell you much more, because:...1) You don't have a need to know..., and 2) There really isn't any more. I'm only telling you what I'm telling you because your wife was murdered. That's about it. There is an awful lot of pressure to solve it because of the high profile politicos and big shots involved, not because of your wife."

"It's o.k. Terry; I understand."

We ate breakfast, and he also let me lean on his shoulder a bit. I felt like I was taking advantage of their kindness, and I felt a little bad for it, but part of me was rationalizing away the awful thing I had done. The sleazy individuals who also were killed helped me feel a little better. But I still wasn't out of the woods. I paid for their breakfasts in addition to mine, and went home. Cleaned up the Bronco, did some chores, and then I packed up her clothes for donation to Salvation Army. I had a decent supper, and watched some football. Giants lost again. The hits just keep on coming.

Monday I got up, took a shower, and shaved, and went out to breakfast. Waffle House. I need to check on the value of the stock of Waffle House, if it's available. Ginger had my coffee ready, and breakfast on the way.

"Well, at least you look human today."

"Thanks, Mom.' I rejoined with a grin."

"You know, you lend a certain amount of class to this place. Most mornings, you have on a suit and tie. Really makes us feel upscale" as the waffles and hash browns arrived, followed by sausage and scrambled eggs.

"I hope that gets me a deal on the price" I said.

"Sure, we only charge you twice as much as everyone else, Jimmy" she said. I chuckled, and dug in.

Then, I noticed a beat -up Dodge mini-van pull into the parking lot.

A young lady got out, and was followed by a small tow-headed little girl. She looked to be about 3 or 4.